Three Micros by Merridawn Duckler

Is there a bathroom? Can I take a picture? The answers are yes and no. Sometimes I switch, out of boredom. Today he was back. I can’t leave. Who would guard the art? But he can come look at me anytime. I sometimes dream the hanging blob falls. I asked to be moved to Floor 2 to guard a bronze doughnut and a pile of shoes. No dice. He takes a picture. I followed him but was blocked by two women arguing about a red neon what it all meant. It’s the exit. Last week he missed a day. No matter. I still believe in art.